"I do have one announcement to make before we begin practice," 
M'ressan told the group of young Dragons and new dragonriders assembled 
before him on the Warren "Green" (M'ressan thought it ought to be called 
more descriptively the "Brown" this time of year... he hated 
wintertime).  "We've been breaking early because the sun sets so early 
and we don't want to work in the dark.  Unfortunately, we've been losing 
time.  I'm planning on holding us over this afternoon to get caught up.  
You'll probably want to make sure your loved ones know."

	He grinned at the muffled groans.  "Its time to start cracking 
the whip," he said.  "You didn't think was really going to be all fun and 
games?  Think of it this way: your Dragons will be flying in another day 
or two.  That's when most of you will get to pick an apartment and move 
out of those cold hatchling barracks.  More than enough motivation, if 
you ask me."

	There was murmurred assent.  "Now, we'll start with our daily 
oil.  Remember what I said about oiling a small area at a time to keep 
the Dragon from getting chilled in this weather..."

	Mista told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted down.  He'd
been carrying her on his shoulders, a sight the trainees had gotten used
to quickly.  M'ressan hefted her into the air, wriggling happily, and
deposited her on the brown grass next to Alanth.  The huge red Dragon had
turned out to be a marvelously effective nursemaid.  Like nearly every
other Dragon in the Warren, Alanth doted on the telepathic baby girl. 
Mista immediately became fascinated by pulling up dead brown grass, and
M'ressan turned back to his work.  He could keep half a mental touch on
her to make sure she was all right. 

	They covered a bit of Dragon first aid, the design of riding
harnesses, and the proper harnessing of a Dragon before dinner.  He showed
them where the harness could rub if it weren't fastened properly, and
where it would most likely come loose.  It wasn't necessary to unharness a
Dragon every day, he explained, but it was a good idea to take them off at
least once a week to avoid damage to the Dragon's hide.  Then he had them
harness and unharness their Dragons until he was sure they were doing it
right. 

	At about dusk, everyone started to get hungry.  He let the
trainees break for dinner and scouped up Mista to get her something to eat
as well.  He recruited a group of Warren youths to take a bunch of oil
lamps out to the Green to provide some illumination for the after dark
portion of the training.  He hoped he didn't have to keep them too long. 

	After forcing a stubborn Mista to eat a little bit of what was
good for her and a lot of what she liked, M'ressan grabbed a sandwich and
headed out to meet the group on the Green.  They all looked a bit bored
and ready to do something else with their evening.  He hoped he could 
make this quick.

	"First," he said, "I want to make it clear that once your Dragon is
flying reliably, I'm going to spend about one day covering basic
maneuvers, and then you're going to be assigned to a fighting wing for
more specialized training.  If any of you have any trouble with the idea
of combat flying, I can refer you to the DragonLady.  There are plenty of
other areas where a dragonrider could be useful.  I hope everyone's clear 
on that?"

	There were some half-interested murmurs of assent.  M'ressan 
sighed.  "NOw, if you would--"
 
	<!-!*-!***!---!**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!>

	The cry was incoherent, terrified.  M'ressan grabbed at his head, 
and Alanth moved protectively around where Mista sat on the Green, 
looking horribly upset.  "Paranth!" M'ressan whispered.  "Something's 
happened to Michel!"

	He looked toward the dark, silent cliffs of the Warren apartments. 
"If you'll excuse me for a minute."  He took off at a run, leaving the
trainees milling about in confusion. 

**********

	Aleta was walking along the edge of the central Warren cliff.  
She just dismissed Alpha Wing from a drill, and she needed to unwind.  
This was the first full drill they'd had since the mess with M'tan, and 
Christalla and Wynn were right-- the Wing was a shambles.  She was doing 
her best to patch it back together.  M'tan had been there for a while, 
too, before Aylin had called him to take a turn sitting with D'neor.  
They'd shown they could work together... sort of.  It was a start.

	Aleta sighed and kicked a stone with the toe of her boot. 
Everything was so different now, and the strange part was that it was
starting to feel normal.  She was getting used to sleeping alone at night,
even.  If she was doing something important, she could even forget how
empty she was inside for a bit.  Aylin was even making sure she saw Benna
regularly, tho she apparently hadn't been making sure M'tan was aware of
that.  The woman was a saint, a busybody saint. 

	There was a long, low Dragon's scream from an apartment close 
by.  Aleta felt a shiver go though Melianth.

	<What is it?> she cried.

	<Paranth!  He's upset!> Melianth replied.  <There are Humans 
causing his Human pain!>

	Aleta didn't ask any more.  She just started running.  It was 
easy to pick which apartment from the orange glow... a panicked Dragon 
breathing fire against the inner wall of his den.  It was a 
ground-access.  She charged up the stairs...

	And found herself face-to-face with a man in a leather mask.  He 
raised a club at her threateningly.  "Who are you??" she cried.  "What 
did Michel ever do to you?"

	"Get out, Landbound!" the shadowy figure growled.  Aleta was 
stunned.  How could someone call her that?  Before she had a chance to 
react, he lunged at her.  She leaned out of the way instinctively.  The 
attack was badly timed, and her assailant threw himself into a wall.  She 
danced out of reach.

	"Michel!" she cried, dashing farther into the apartment.  "Where
are you?"  Most of the lights had been broken, so the apartment was 
covered in a blanket of shadow.  Motion... so many people.  Somewhere 
close to ten, and she wasn't sure if ANY of them were Michel.  The roar 
of activity drowned her voice.

	Suddenly she saw the glow the of wall.  Heat... Flame... 
Paranth.  <Melianth!> she cried.  <Tell Paranth to stop!  He's heating up 
the stone!>

	<He won't stop,> Melianth retorted.  <He says Michel is in there 
hurting.> 

	But where?

	Another masked man dove at her, but it didn't take much to 
deflect him either.  Were all of them such ineffective fighters?  They 
must be overcoming Michel by force of numbers alone.  This one fell past 
her.... and into the faintly glowing wall behind.

	He screamed.

	<Oh my God!> Aleta cried.

	There was a semi-coherent cry from someone near the door.  
"People are coming!  Letzgetoutuvhere!"

	And another, as he charged past her, "At least we paid him back
for Roland!"  That voice... Aleta was SURE she'd heard it before, but she
couldn't place it.  She turned back to the man by the wall, but he was
gone.  One of the others must have taken him.  She pulled herself 
together and turned to find 2 figures on the floor.  Quick inspection 
proved them to be Michel and Briana, both unconcious.

	She shook her head, trying to make sense of the craziness.  Then, 
suddenly, Melianth exploded in her head.  <Darshan!>

	<What about him?>

	<His Human... Almiron!>  Aleta took the feeling and turned out 
the door of the apartment.  There on the steps, Almiron had crumpled.  
She ran to him, checking his pulse.  He was alive.  She let out the 
breath she had been holding.

	"Cowards!" M'ressan voice called from bellow.  "Stop and face me! 
What did you do with Michel?"  THere were others behind him... a mob
gathering to protect one of the Warren own.  *This* must have been what
had scared the attackers away.  But wouldn't one of them have HAD to be a
dragonrider...?

	"Res!" Aleta called, waving.  "They're here.  Come help me.  
Almiron needs to get to the Med Center fast!"

**********

	Word reached the DragonLady quickly, calling her away from her
meeting with D'neor.  By the time she got there, half the Warren was there
already.  She did the best she could to collect some kind of coherent
account of what had happened, but the facts were clouded by speculation
and embellishment by people who really hadn't seen anything.  Christalla
was tired, and the thought of one of her dragonriders so blatantly
attacked made her even more tired. 

	At last she pushed her way through the crowd and entered Michel's 
apartment, where Kyven was completing his checkups of Briana and Michel 
himself.  Both of them had been injured, but there would be no lasting 
effects.  From the report M'ressan had sent via Kaeryth, Almiron was in 
much worse shape.  She asked them for their accounts of the incident, 
which didn't offer a whole lot of help as to the perpetrators... but 
Christalla was starting to feel very uneasy about the motives.

	"I'll want to talk to both of you in the morning," Christalla
concluded.  "At that time, I'm going to interview everyone who saw
ANYTHING, so try to collect your thoughts and let me know as much as you
can remember.  If I think it's warranted, I will call a Warrenwide meeting
to discuss this new threat.  If Michel's attackers are part of this
Warren, I want them located and brought to trial as soon as possible." 

	"Do you think it could be the assassin?" someone asked.  "I 
always felt there was more than one."

	Christalla turned to the speaker, not seeing Michel's mate Lori
stiffen.  "Let's stop speculation right now.  I will NOT deal with runaway
rumors.  We never knew there was more than one assassin.  This sounds 
like something completely different." 

	Slowly the crowd dispursed, and Briana-- the more seriously
injured of the two-- was helped to her feet.  Suddenly, a large figure
pushed his way through the remnants of the gathering and swept Briana into
his arms. 

	"R'mar!" Briana called out, squirming painfully.  "What are you-"

	"You were injured," R'mar replied determinedly.  "The Medical 
Center is a long walk from here.  I'll take you there."

	"But I'm fine!" Briana protested.

	R'mar shook his head stubbornly.  "I'll take you there and 
protect you," he said, holding her close.  The could be no dispute with 
the intensity in his dark eyes.  Briana watched his face in wonder as he 
carried her out of the room.

	Christalla watched him go, shrugged, and ushered everyone out.  
Michel and his mate should have some privacy.  She had a guard from the 
Guild of Swords stationed outside their apartment, and another oustide 
the Medical Center.  It was the best she could do.  Privately, she hoped 
it really WASN'T another assassin.


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Administrator, DragonLands

NRPG: Ugh, this post just didn't flow.  Here it is, tho.  Investigations 
should start in the morning :).


|echo@indy.net : Interactive-Writing Roleplay Masochist, Babylon 5 Fanatic|
| Administrator, DragonLands RPG <http://www.indy.net/~echo/dlands.html>  |
|Asst Director, XFiles RPG <http://www.linux.sfasu.edu/xfiles/xfrpg.html> |
| "May God stand between you and harm in all the empty places where you   |
                must walk."  - Old Egyptian Blessing